


Demacia Falls

by kiwin_vyk1



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Demacia (League of Legends), Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Mildly Dubious Consent, Royal servant au, Royalty AU, Suggestive Themes, Unrequited Love, demacia falls au, do anyone even read tags lmao, enemies to lovers AU, for sure, i am going to create an alternative universe so self indulgent, royal servant, smut maybe?, very self indulgent, we love some unrequited love in this household
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwin_vyk1/pseuds/kiwin_vyk1
Summary: Demacia finally fell to the rivaling kingdom, Noxus. After years of bloody battles, the Demancian royalty were forced on their knees, bowing to their new tyrant, Jericho Swain. “The disobedient ones will be kept as prisoners. Those with worth will serve unless they are disloyal to their empire,” he commanded his guards, while stating loudly enough to come off as a warning to the Demacians.(Word of warning: None of this is edited, so apologies in advance for any basic mistakes.)
Relationships: Talon Du Couteau & Quinn, Talon Du Couteau/Quinn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

Demacia finally fell to the rivaling kingdom, Noxus. After years of bloody battles, the Demancian royalty were forced on their knees, bowing to their new tyrant, Jericho Swain. “The disobedient ones will be kept as prisoners. Those with worth will serve unless they are disloyal to their empire,” he commanded his guards, while stating loudly enough to come off as a warning to the Demacians. 

Quinn was sent to serve for the Du Couteaus, one of the most highly respected Noxian families. Maybe if she kept her head low and stayed attentive, she could find her freedom. With hands bound, a fire dimly lit the room filled with the Du Couteaus residents. Red carpet decorated the floor with daggers and swords embellishing the walls of the establishment, gleaming with the fire, the only surface she could really see as the people spoke in the dark. She heard, as it was still being discussed, if her fate would be a personal servant or a household maid. The ideas disgusted her either way. 

The head of the household was the infamous Marcus Du Couteau, a ruthless and violent general on the battlefield, yet a lonely father of three. Their eldest daughter was Katarina Du Couteau, who took on her father’s ruthlessness. The Sinister Blade was notorious for her talents with her blades, assassinating numerous Demacians. Her most defining feature being the long scar across her eye, only constituting more fear to those unfortunate enough to fall prey to her. Then, there was Cassiopeia, cursed with a lower half to slither with from the curse of Shurimian magic. Occasionally, she came in and out of the mansion, for she also resided in Shurima. 

Quinn racked her brain for the final household member she— “will be a personal servant to Talon Du Couteau.” The Blade’s Shadow appeared from the darkness, nearly causing the Demacian to jump. Talon took a solid look at her and sneered, “She looks incompetent to do any work.”

The Demacian blinked, her hands clenched into a fist, yet she knew she must not act out on any emotions. Though, how dare he spoke so harshly. His father scolded him, “If she’s incompetent then ridicule her, but do not judge at a moment’s notice.” The assassin could only scoff back at his father, eyeing the Demacian with disgust in his gaze.

What a chore her life would be.


	2. Only If The Steel Could Dig A Bit Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was then that the silence was broken.

Noxian servant quarters were  _ horrendous _ , the vile smell of mould loved to hang in the air in the deepest corners covered in webs. Her eyes twitched and her body requested her mind to promptly remove itself from the area immediately, but Quinn continued on as the few Noxian servants murmured amongst each other, some spoke with pity and others spoke of animosity. 

Shown to her room, it lacked personality as it only held a white bed with a single cushion and small sheets. Nearby stood a rough chiffonier, it’s rickety shape told its potential users that it could fall apart with the slightest stress. In her hands were the attire she must wear for what could seem the remainder of her life, and her companion she managed to sneak into the quarters. Poor Valor, she thought, as he had to nearly suffocate beneath the amount of cloth she kept him hidden under. Her friend was just as frail as she was and the loss of the war displayed on his figure. Allowing him to rest on the bed, she shoved the bed away from the wall, creating a small pocket of space for the bird to live uncomfortably in, yet it was the best effort for their current situation.  _ They’ll survive this together, _ hope still burned in her spirits. Undressing from her ragged Demacian outfit, she made a bedding in the pocket and laid the sleeping Valor inside, then her hands met the uniform she was meant to wear. 

It featured a simple white collared shirt with short sleeves meant to be tucked into a garnet high waisted skirt falling down to just below her knees, fortunately holding deep pockets. Black laced up boots accompanied the simple outfit, but it looked worn. If she had no shame, she would almost admit that it was a nice outfit to wear occasionally, but as it proved what her kingdom had fallen prey to? The ensemble could only leave a sour sting in her mouth that she was unable to get rid of. Without further thought, she forced the clothing on. 

Leaving the quarters, the Demacian caught sight of familiar faces and breathed a sigh of relief, if she had to rebel at least she would have allies besides her side. Unfortunately, there were not enough faces to properly overthrow the household, but the Demacian faces were most notably Lux and Garen Crownguard, the former assigned to basic household duties while the latter was assigned as a personal servant. 

It was not the time to play catch up, however, as Quinn was immediately tasked with delivering breakfast to the Blade’s Shadow, discussions of his whereabouts all pointed to his own personal hall. The turns of the mansion proved complicated as she kept mental annotations of its layout. Some sympathetic vassals were kind enough to provide detailed instructions to the infamous Talon’s room, as she rushed to get her chores over with. 

She came across a broad oak door with gashes adorning the unfortunate wood, her eyes narrowed at the scars as she could not believe why any sane person would stab a door. With a deep breath, she cracked it opened and wandered in, silver tray in hand. The opening behind her fell closed as she awkwardly awaited for further instructions but the man in front of her refused to pay any attention towards her. Instead, he seemed too invested in the blades he held in his hands, swiftly slicing a target dummy. 

A moment passed. Two moments passed. Should she talk?  _ No _ , logic spoke to her,  _ she will just annoy him, just set the food down and leave _ . Positioning the tray of food on an empty desk, Quinn was about to leave until she noticed a blade similar to what she had concealed under her clothing in desperate times of need as a Demacian soldier. The steel tempted her, whispering promises of security as it asked to be stolen, but she knew she would face ruthless punishments for wielding a weapon and stealing from the Du Couteaus, yet it still intrigued her. She picked it up, positioning her arms in front of her face, practicing the techniques that buried deep in her motor memories. It was then that the silence was broken.

“If you wish to conceal the blade, I must say that one is one of my favorites,” his words were as sharp as the dagger, providing a threat in its underlying message. Quinn examined its edge, refusing to put down the weapon but instead returned a jab, “You’re a famed Noxian assassin, yet you fight with a Demacian blade?”

“That’s none of your concern,” he approached her while spinning a serrated dirk in his hand. His focus shifted to her hands and posture, seemingly analyzing her stance. He brought his hands up, his right hand gripped the hilt and his expression asked, no demanded, for a spar. Trouble was lurking around the corner, she faced him, as she knew it was best to refuse his offer, her left hand grasped the hilt of the dagger tightly, and she struck first. 

Her intent was not to kill. It was not to harm. Rather, she took out her frustrations with possible shallow slices. Talon was a skilled opponent, but his movements were all too familiar. He parried each cleave with an attack of his own. They had fought on the battlefield against each other before. Fought to kill, but Quinn was a ranger then. Now, all she had was a knife and spite. The most damage her offense could do was nick the cloth the Noxian wore, but it was enough for her. Her opponent seemed to not play offensively. Her attack was blocked once again. He was observing her motions. 

Another slash finally proved successful, ripping through the indigo fabric of his sleeve. The bladesman almost seemed impressed at the quick match, but his features also hardened. 

“I could see why now Demacia fell after so long,” he taunted as a smirk stained his face. The Demacian refused to let the comment get to her head, rather she placed the blade back where she found it, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. She gave a curt nod to his statement and departed from the grim room. 

**Author's Note:**

> :^)


End file.
